


Double Take

by methylviolet10b



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 15:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15197492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b
Summary: Watson notices some odd looks while making his way home from his club. Written for JWP #6 over on Watson's Woes.





	Double Take

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Taking liberties with certain historical aspects today. And absolutely no beta. This was written in a huge rush. You have been warned.  
> Author's Notes: Written for the following prompt: Double Take. Watson keeps getting odd looks from people and can't figure out why. Tell us why.

I was at my club, enjoying a game of billiards with Thurston, when the wire came from Holmes.  
  
LESTRADE ARRIVING AT 2 STOP SH STOP  
  
Holmes did not say he wanted my presence, but the very act of sending the telegram implied it well enough. I read the brief message with no little relief. There had been a drought of cases of late, and while Holmes had turned to one of his historical researches to keep himself occupied, I remained all too aware of the danger, both to his health and to the relative pleasantness of Baker Street. There were reasons why I went to my club this morning, after all.   
  
I had time to finish my game and bid a cordial farewell to Thurston. On the way out, I noticed with satisfaction other club-members reading newspapers. There had been few copies available when I arrived, due to some mix-up or other in delivery. Evidently that problem had been solved. I retrieved my coat and hat from the coat-room, and noticed that the attendant gave me a rather odd second look. He said nothing, however, and being in a hurry, I did not trouble to ask him about it.  
  
My route took me by Bradley’s, and I had the cab man drop me there, with the idea of stopping in and picking up a fresh supply of tobacco. The shop was quite busy, however. The assistant looked up with a harried expression when the bell rang over the door, heralding my arrival, turned back to his customer, and then looked up directly at me, staring. I glanced behind me and saw several more gentlemen heading for the shop door. Shaking my head at the crowd, I turned around and continued on my way home.  
  
Once is chance, twice is coincidence. Yet I received several other second glances on the short walk from Bradley’s to Baker Street, all from people I recognized from the local shops. I started to wonder whether I’d managed to get billiard chalk on my coat in some unfortunate way, but I saw nothing on myself to explain it.  
  
A constable stood just inside the door, and I heard the indistinct but unmistakable tones of Inspector Lestrade’s voice from upstairs. I nodded politely at the constable and hurried up to the sitting-room, pointedly ignoring the rather goggle-eyed look the man gave me.  
  
Holmes was in his usual chair, surrounded by his papers, and looking at the inspector with a faintly puzzled air. The inspector, for his part, was standing, and looked deeply uncomfortable. I hoped Holmes hadn’t said anything too rude. He really needed a case. “Inspector Lestrade, how pleasant to see you,” I greeted him, hoping to smooth over any momentary awkwardness.  
  
The inspector’s reaction, however, was entirely unexpected. “What the devil!”  
  
I stopped in my tracks. Holmes straightened up in his chair, his eyes fixed on Lestrade’s face.  
  
“I beg your pardon?” It was all I could think to say.  
  
Inspector Lestrade stared, and then shook his head and huffed, half a laugh, half a sound of relief. “There’s been some mix-up somewhere, evidently, and I can’t think when I’ve been gladder of it. Doctor Watson, you’re well?”  
  
“Yes, thank you, although somewhat confused.”  
  
Lestrade turned to Holmes. “And I guess that’s why you asked about what case I’d brought you, then. Neither of you have seen the papers this morning?”  
  
Holmes shook his head. “I’ve looked at nothing later than the 17th century today,” he admitted.  
  
“That explains it, then.” Lestrade took a folded newspaper from his pocket and handed it to Holmes. “I didn’t come here today with a case. I came with condolences, and to learn what had happened.”  
  
Holmes’ eyebrows went up in surprise. I walked over to his chair and looked over his shoulder. The paper was folded open to the obituaries, and there, halfway down the page, I saw my own name.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted July 6, 2018

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Early Epitaph](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15284433) by [methylviolet10b](https://archiveofourown.org/users/methylviolet10b/pseuds/methylviolet10b)




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